We are The Division
by d-clarence
Summary: When a surprise bio-terrorist attack on Black Friday catches governments off-guard, all of society collapses under the Dollar Flu. Millions die in its wake, first responders falter, and massive chaos erupts. But a new hope ignites. Convened in secrecy, an elite agency of courageous individuals was deployed to save what remains. They are known as The Division. This is their story...


Prologue: Hunted

* * *

_**Location**__**: NYC Manhattan "Dark Zone," Sector DZ-06, Map Grid 10019**_

_**Date/Time**__**: December 24, 0346 Zulu, Day 26 since "Dollar Flu" pandemic inception**_

_**Active Field Agents**__**: Agent R. Westbrook, Fireteam Raven and Agent C. Sanford, Fireteam Emerald**_

_**Objective(s)**__**: Locate, Secure, & Rescue Agent (REDACTED FROM OFFICIAL RECORD, Authorization Faye Lau: 140-412) **_

Tonight was cold and dark, just like any other New York City winter. But this night was different in this new, apocalyptic era. Where once upon a time, traffic flowed through these subways, streets, and sidewalks freely in the city that never sleeps, now they lie frozen, dead, and empty from this age of biological terror. The pharmacies, food marts, and even the police stations were all looted, picked clean of anything useful. Though martial law was in effect all over the nations of the world, the lawless, walled off quarantined space known melodramatically as the "Dark Zone" gave way to a free-for-all where only the bravest and luckiest may survive. This area cut a swath through the majority of mid-town and upper Manhattan. Businesses were left a mere ruined shadow of their former selves, most housing was walled off with biohazard tarps, and it was impossible to go more than twenty feet on the sidewalks without tripping over the emaciated or gunned down remains of some unfortunate soul.

But alas, hope was there for one individual wandering aimlessly in these streets that once were her home. She just needed to survive this night and try to make a go over the erected walls and chain-linked fences of reinforced steel and sterilized plastics somehow. This teenager scoured many blocks for food, water, and any form of medical treatment to help ease her parents' suffering while their lives slowly and painfully ebbed away from the evolving virus that struck all of humanity. Proper 12-Gauge ammunition for the Remington 870 shotgun she nabbed from an abandoned police cruiser was scarce and also so greatly prized after as well.

This adolescent eyed every corner, every window for trouble, for on top of the local rioters and scavengers like herself, there are three dominant hostile factions, the Cleaners, former sanitation workers and city engineers who sought to purge the man-made virus through fire and fury, the Rikers, a highly organized and well-armed rabble of escaped convicts and criminals who're taking advantage of this international catastrophe for personal gain and glory, and now the Last Man Battalion, a private military company, initially hired to protect by bureaucrats and bankers, now have chosen to go rogue and aim to establish their new world order amidst the chaos. All of them were run amok in this once great American city. That is, until the lone and young adolescent crossed over to West 57th street, near the Art Students League of New York she once attended in happier times now long gone. This woman spotted someone who didn't need their supplies anymore.

A deceased US Army National Guardsmen, wearing the bright neon green vest and helmet with yellow stripes all Joint Task Force members wore over their standard-issue gear, lay face down and motionless near the driver's side seat of a bombed out Humvee convoy of several vehicles, right in the middle of the street. Looks like an ambush gone bad, it seemed. She didn't care by who, how, or why, for she eyed the large tactical backpack this man still had on his person. Though her parents warned her against such foolishness of looting out in the open, let alone searching for supplies in the quarantine zone on her own, she needed whatever this dead soldier was carrying above all else. She didn't even look both ways before crossing the street and running over to the armored trucks' wreckages.

Upon her arrival, she straightened out her ash winter puff jacket that was far too large for her lithe frame before setting down her weapon by the JTF trooper's body. Frantically looking around the freezing and dilapidated streets as she struggled with the backpack's various straps that were still clipped tightly to its owner, she jumped to conclusions and assumed she was safe from harm for the moment. After she pulled the bag off the corpse, she was hyperventilating while unzipping it, and then she tucked the loose strands of her blonde hair back in its place under her black slouchy, smiling and sighing in relief as to what she found.

Inside was a couple of infantry first aid kits, a bundled length of rope, also three thirty round STANAG magazines for a US Army-issue M16A4, the very weapon of which remained clutched in the frozen hands beneath this young man's body. Included within this pack was a Meal-Ready-to-Eat with water purification tablets inside, and more importantly to her, a zip-lock plastic bag containing a full package of bandages, painkillers, hypodermic needles with miniature bottles already filed with penicillin, and other miscellaneous medical needs for her family. Through much trial and tribulation this dark and dreary night, her raid finally paid off this time.

This young woman was dearly hungry, and so she dug right into the meal rations before her. Within its various pouches of premade foods, a familiar pack of peanut M&M's caught her eye. She cared not that they were likely stale or expired by now and so she ripped open the yellow wrapper and dug right in, dumping the contents straight into her mouth with glee. But a noise from afar stopped her mid-chew. It stood out prominently in this silent night, apart from the electric flickering of the street lamps around her and the unforgiving whistling of the icy wind. It resembled the clicking noise of when a firearm's safety catch was switched off.

Paying closer attention to her left towards the Brooklyn Diner, she saw the once lively restaurant reduced to a shadow of its former self. The neon sign was out of order permanently and many of the windows were smashed to bits and boarded up with plywood panels and corrugated tin metal plating. Nothing too out of the ordinary, until she saw in one broken window, a small red or orange halo whose light flickered.

She froze in place with the candy still in her jaw and the wrapper in hand. The tiny, glowing circle was attached to the odd, yet intricate wristwatch of a figure hidden in shadow. All she saw next was the unknown's distressed orange sleeves of a thick leather jacket, the owner of which was definitely packing serious tactical gear, and this man was well armed. A sub-machinegun's sound suppressor and barrel was pointed her way while her free hand slowly inched and reached down, grasping her stolen firearm around its grip tightly. Her fair skin paled, her blue eyes quivered and her breathing ragged as the inevitable fate came from a faint flash from the gun's muzzle.

_Thwip… _

Before she could effectively raise and point her shotgun, a single sub-sonic .45 ACP caliber bullet was fired, and before she knew it, this young woman yelped in pain as the bullet struck near her chest, her body flinging back towards the discarded Humvee. The young woman's feet slid by the ice-covered street below her before she collapsed onto her small bottom. She choked on her last meal and gagged when she looked down and saw a gruesome red splotch spread from the small opening in her jacket and out her back. The crimson taste soon followed and overtook the peanut chocolates in her mouth. Her body fell at last, smearing her blood all over the cold steel door, and she was left joining the JTF Guardsman, lying between him and the armored truck, motionless and still.

\- - - … - - -

_Tink… Tink-Tink…_

Still aiming his suppressed Kriss Vector sub-machinegun down range, the small shell casing dropped down to the shattered glass at Agent Westbrook's feet as he coldly announced into his radio earpiece to his team, "Potential threat neutralized."

His squad mate, Agent Tyrone Bronson, hefting his heavy-duty M60E4 slung aside the weapon's lengthy 7.62mm ammunition belt and came over to his side, whispering into his friend's ear, "Hey Ryan, she bring any friends? Or this one 'nother lone wolf?"

Still maintaining the glowing red dot crosshair of his EXPS3 Holographic Weapon Sight on target, he looked around briefly and shook his head no, silently replying, "Looks clear, she's a lone wolf, Tyrone. I have control."

He received a pat on the back from his teammate, before he readied himself to take another shot at her, just to be sure. A quick death was the very least this Agent could grant unto her. Holding his breath, he lined up his target again and fired once more.

_Thwip-!-!-!_

His weapon slightly recoiled back into his shoulder, but the second shot at her went off course, impacting the icy asphalt of the street just a foot off-target before the ricochet hit the bloodied Humvee door in a spray of white and yellow sparks. No matter how well dressed he was for the weather tonight, the bone-chilling cold was definitely getting to this experienced, yet weary Strategic Homeland Agent. Tightening his grip again onto his firearm, he took a third and final shot.

_Thwip-!-!-!_

He released his breath when a reassuring crimson mist released from where he aimed. Leaving his watch station to join with his fellow Agents, he lowered his weapon, closed his eyes, and gave a silent prayer that whoever that was, that she may forgive him in whatever afterlife there was. As he looked onto his comrades, he found it quite humorous and curious though these men and women around him are supposed to be specialized government agents, they were only equipped with what they could conceal in their personal stashes for use if and when national catastrophes hit so hard, they get called to serve. Other than their high-end and experimental equipment and gadgets, they were dressed in a rather unfashionable mix of military-style, survival based, and basic civilian clothing.

All of these carefully selected and specially trained Agents of the Strategic Homeland Division were busy on watch from different windows inside this dilapidated diner using overturned tables as cover and the rest of them were looting a downed five-member Last Man Battalion patrol for anything useful. Both fireteams of Agents were certainly lucky to get the drop on these private military thugs quietly.

"Guys, leave something for Ryan," Agent Bronson ordered the rest. "Or he'll get mad and lead us on some Cleaner minefield in the underground."

"Yeah?! Let him try!" snapped Agent Corinne Sanford, leader of Fireteam Emerald, from the cramped and overturned kitchen, all while her fellow subordinate and medic, Agent Wallace, was occupied bandaging her thigh from a gunshot wound from a prior firefight. Raising her extensively modified RPK-74M, she shouted, "I can get that fucker even without my leg!"

"I can hear you, assholes," he sternly reminded. Pointing his finger at his partner team leader, he scolded, "You may be First Wave, but I know this part of the Dark Zone better than you and I at least have a clue where to find my missing team member!"

"Oh… really?!" Sanford argued further brushing back her blonde ponytail with her hand. "We wouldn't be here tonight searching for Megan if you'd control that _bitch_ from leaving unannounced!"

"Hey uh," Bronson intervened, standing between the two, raising his hands apprehensively. "You guys know she leaves only because her family is somewhere on this side of the wall, right?"

Corinne laughed at her comrade's suggestion as her medic finished up with the bandages to her thigh. "Agh… You _really_ believe that horseshit? What if she's meeting up with the LMB or other Rogue Agents or… hell... something or someone _worse_?"

"Yeah, you don't know that, lady," the heavy gunner retorted.

"Anyways ladies and gentlemen," Westbrook finally spoke up, readying his Vector. "Once we pack up what we can carry and find Agent McCullough, or whatever's left of her, let's take a heli extract, or else our 'fans' will show up."

This at least both Raven and Emerald agreed upon.

"Copy that, bossman," Bronson nodded once.

"Beats bleeding out in this shitty diner…" complained Sanford with a pained grunt.

Calling on his radio the Agents outside watching over the small city park to the West of the diner, Westbrook inquired, "Yo, Liu, is the coast all clear? Do your men need anything?"

"I need water, man," Agent Jerry Liu responded, breathing heavily. "Cold's sapping me up, over."

"And you, Patty?"

"I don't need jackshit from here," Agent Patricia Perez replied. But she chuckled back, "Heh, but I will change my mind if you find any apple turnovers or bacon cheeseburgers while you're there! Over!"

"Ha, ha! I'll be the first to let you know for sure, over and out."

When the other handful of Agents on looting duty finished up taking whatever ammunition, first aid supplies, uncontaminated food and water rations, and other useful supplies from the downed contractors, they gave the thumbs-up, signaling to the rest it was now time to move out. Some of them split off to join Liu and Chan outside in the empty park, while the rest rejoined the others within the restaurant on watch or helping Sanford stand back up.

"Ow, fuck this leg," cursed Corinne. Getting on her radio, she tried once again tonight to try to call for a helicopter evacuation from their Base of Operations established in the James Farley Post Office in Manhattan, just some distance outside the Dark Zone. "Emerald-Actual to Lighthouse, Emerald-Actual to Lighthouse, come in, over… Lighthouse, do you read me, over?"

"T-Tr-Transmissions j-jammed," the ISAC Artificial Intelligence's autonomous voice responded back to her with a noticeable stutter, as did the holographic rings on everyone's smartwatches and backpack radios. "P-Proximity cover-r-rage only…"

"Lau ain't answering?" Westbrook figured, cocking his eyebrow.

"Nope. It's something about this damned place," she looked around cautiously outside at the ruins of New York City, saying further, "Can't get any long-range signal out!"

"Agent, keep trying, I'd rather we head to the rooftop extraction point at the 'Hotel' rather than have you leg it all the way to the western gatehouse."

ISAC came back online at last with its typical automated message. "B-B-Backup act-activated. System rebooted-ed."

Bronson took over Ryan's old watch post over 57th Street, but upon looking down the street both east and westbound, he saw something amiss back at the wrecked Humvee, where the JTF soldier's body still lay. The Agent whilst pointing his heavy machinegun at the suspicious scene, called over to his friend, "Hey! Wes!"

"'Sup, bro?" he turned and raised a curious brow.

"Where's your last kill? That one scav you just shot?!"

Sanford shot a dirty look at Westbrook who couldn't understand how. The other Agents within earshot mildly panicked and began reassessing their sectors.

"Are you fuckin' deaf, bruh?! Where's that kid's body?!"

Running over to Bronson's side, Ryan raised his Vector once again, this time flipping up the G33 Magnifier Scope that was situated behind his weapon's collimator sights, and aimed down the zoomed in view. He saw much closer this time the scene he thought he personally cleared. The Humvee wrecks and murdered JTF Guardsman lay the same, but the teenage girl in the puffy jacket and worn jeans was nowhere to be found. Moreover, he disturbingly found that his last shot actually missed and hit the dead soldier's side as he bled onto the street.

"Shit!" Westbrook cursed under his breath, before reporting back, "This fucker must have left with her shotgun!"

All Agents within the remnants of the Brooklyn Diner were put on high alert after this report.

"Shit, your unconfirmed could be anywhere by now!" Tyrone warned. "Get your Pulse Scanner up! Find out where ASAP!"

"Our Shade Tech's still jammed here! There's no way to reboot this damn…"

_Ba-Bang-!-!-! Boom-!-!-!_

Before the Agents knew it, several holes were punched almost instantly at the same time through the corrugated sheet metal paneling over the broken windows to Bronson and Ryan's right. The former yelled out in pain and collapsed on top of the latter as the chaos ensued.

"Contact two-o-clock!" Agent Sanford shouted to everyone, raising her RPK light machinegun in the process.

Both Sanford and her medic both fired off their rifles as the rest within the diner turned and did the same. The parking lot crowd shifted positions to counter this single threat to their teams. Corinne fired automatic burst after burst, directly over where Agents Ryan and Bronson lay, straight through the sheet metal, piercing many new holes through. The shoddy reinforcement on the window frame had enough stress from all the combined automatic rifle gunfire and it collapsed from where it was nailed into the snow outside, but the target was nowhere to be seen. The shots echoed through the seemingly empty streets and were heard for miles on end.

Two men reloaded their firearms, and the rest paid attention for any new developments. Westbrook was the first to hastily arise into a crouched position, patting himself down for any sign of injury. Luckily, he sustained none, unlike his teammate that still lay on the floor, grunting in pain. Emerald's medic rushed over to the scene without a second thought.

"Tyrone! Tyrone, you okay?!" Agent Jordan Wallace hurriedly held his brother-in-arms while he got his surgical kit ready, drawing out bandages, painkillers, and all.

"I'm… still alive… Fuck!" he groaned, raising his limp arm, his face cringing and straining from the wounds.

"Break, break! Emerald-Actual to parking lot team!" Corinne called while still pointing her weapon out the window. "Took fire outside from 57th due northeast! Raven-Two is down!"

"Goddamn it," Patricia responded back, and the radio stuttered again. Looking behind her to her teammate, she informed him and ordered, "I'll intercept. Liu? Watch my nine."

"Rog' I'm on it!" he complied and the two proceeded forth, rifles raised at the ready while the rest took up the pair's former watch posts around the park.

"Toss a frag my way, will ya?" Pat turned to him and asked, just when the pair took cover around the outside corner.

Agent Liu pulled the pin and released the lever on one of his M67 fragmentation grenades from his belt pouch. After counting to three in his mind, he threw it where he best guessed the shooter was hiding, along the street, behind the cars closest to the Diner. The wide explosion rocked the vehicles nearby it, blasting out windows, flattening tires, and setting off all of their anti-theft alarms. The explosive and blaring sounds echoed through the seemingly empty streets and were heard for miles on end.

Tucking back her tussled ebony bob cut behind her ears, she then audibly pulled back the charging handle of her Tavor TAR-21, and the weapon was surely chambered, locked, and loaded as Agent Perez leaned around the Diner's corner, in search of her prey. The huntress scanned with the mounted TA31RCO on her assault rifle, focusing first around the damaged cars, through shattered glass windows, and then after much effort, she sighted in the wounded adolescent limping away from the scene.

Her extra-large and puffy winter jacket was covered in various blood stains, her left arm was huddled closely for it had taken a round, quite possibly from Sanford's machinegun spray, and her right pants leg was torn around the calf, revealing the gory mess definitely caused from Liu's grenade toss. Liz could also tell the Remington shotgun this girl carried on her other arm was empty, as evident by the open chamber. She pitied this woman dearly while she sighted her in, for the operative herself was in a very similar situation right before she got the call to emergency service from when Presidential Directive 51 was signed and went live to all Division Agents.

Nonetheless, this target here in this quarantined city turned warzone needed to die.

Perez steadied her bullpup rifle against the Brooklyn Diner's corner while Jerry kept an eye on the perimeter to her left, westbound down the street. She held in her breath while keeping her sights on target. The blonde girl frantically tried to run, but got nowhere. And just like that…

_Pop-Pop-!-!-!_

The weapon sharply recoiled back, but her aim held true. A double-tap of the trigger was all that was needed to drop the poor teenager in need to the earth for good. Arising and standing up from her corner, Liz fired off a few more shots at the body as it lay out in the open, not wishing to make Ryan's same mistake again. The body was riddled with 5.56mm bullet holes precisely aimed center mass, and the unfortunate young woman's life was certainly no more. The Agent's gunshots echoed through the not-so-empty streets and were heard for miles on end.

"I confirm, one E-KIA," she icily reported back over her radio's static. "All's clear."

While Liu and Perez regrouped with the rest of their element in the small park, Raven and Emerald within the restaurant were dealing with yet another medical emergency. From within the diner, Sanford, Westbrook, and Wallace frantically tending to Bronson's recent injuries.

"Hey, Ty!" Ryan tried to keep his friend awake with light pats to his bearded cheek. "Where did you get hit?!"

"Emerald-Three to Raven-Actual," Agent Liu transmitted. "What's up with Bronson? Type of wound?"

Ryan did not answer at first for he was busy inspecting Tyrone's IOTV Plate Carrier Rig and his right arm. Being as impatient as always, Corinne knelt down with Ryan and demanded an answer.

"Are you guys fucking deaf?!" she almost screamed, forcefully grabbing Ryan's shoulder. "What's wrong with him?!"

"Buckshot, twelve gauge!" Wallace turned to hastily reply. "Got a few pellets in his hip and likely under the armor plate."

And just when Raven and Emerald teams thought this situation couldn't possibly get any worse, it did. Following the noise of the gunfire and explosions from mere minutes ago, a Last Man Battalion quick reaction force, in search of their missing patrol, followed suit in cover formation.

Unlike typical troopers from this private company who wore arctic white Army uniforms and matching weapons and gear to boot, these men and women fashioned multiple shades of grey-colored, digital pattern uniforms complete with black body armor. These elite ranked foes were armed with customized P416 carbines or even the much sought after ACR assault rifle derivatives, with one of these soldiers bringing along the M32 Multiple Grenade Launcher. A true set of foes for any Division Agent.

"Contact, contact!" Perez panicked into her mouthpiece, ducking back into her granite cover in the park. "Guys, some action coming down West of 57th, our PMC 'buddies' arrived!"

The remaining operatives inside the restaurant began lining up shots from cover as their team leaders sought what to do next.

Looking down at Tyrone, Westbrook asked him, "Dude, can ya get up?"

"Shit, I'm all numb, bro…" he hoarsely spoke.

The enemy squad took up positions behind the other overturned JTF vehicles and abandoned civilian cars about over a hundred meters away from where Emerald and Raven took positions. Both sides knew what they were getting into and were ready to fight.

"I count… sixteen contacts," Patricia radioed in. "That makes two of 'em for each of us…"

Westbrook and Wallace could only bandage, tourniquet, and administer morphine for Bronson for now, for the present situation seemed to lead towards another gunfight.

"Wallace! Take Ty with you and prepare to fall back," ordered Sanford. Paying attention to the rest of her combined team of four outside, she commanded, "Liu, Perez, hold our 'backdoor' down to West 56th Street open!"

"Jesus Christ, kinda hard to miss this firefight," Jerry worried, one hand tightening down his torn up NY baseball cap and the other has his finger fidgeting on the safety catch and another on the trigger of his Mk. 16 SCAR-L. "So, guys? Are we all in or do we get the hell outta here?!"

"Fuck! Raven-Two can't move!" Ryan confirmed.

_Whoosh-Whoosh-! Ping-Pang-!-!-!_

Before anyone could decide what to do next, several sharp and loud cracks went off. Armor-piercing lead whizzed past everyone's heads. Distinct metallic rings rang off from rounds that impacted all over this American diner. These Division Agents are under attack. Seeing their position could be overrun in minutes if they didn't act, the two squad leaders sprung into immediate and swift action.

"Wallace! Get moving with him now! Get to cover!" Westbrook repeated the order.

Zipping up his go-bag of first aid supplies, he attached his bungee cord from his vest down to a corresponding clip on the back of Bronson's and hastily began pulling the downed agent away to safety. The two teams returned suppressive fire against the LMB Spec-Ops. Even though the Division fought these kinds of mercenaries before, this time proved too much even for the eight of them to handle. This once quiet and empty street erupted into chaos unseen since the viral outbreak began.

"Agents! Let's get the fuck outta here!" yelled Emerald's leader while she fired off her RPK furiously.

"Lighthouse, Lighthouse!" Jerry shouted into his earpiece radio. "We're pinned down in Dark Zone Zero-Six, do you copy?!"

"Forget the radio, we got to move!" Patty cried back, covering her teammate.

The exchange of rapid gunfire went nowhere. Bullets chipped away, chunk by chunk, at what little cover the Agents had. Granite slabs were reduced to rubble underfoot. White Ice and snow made their mish-mash of fatigues and clothing stand out stark even in this time of night. Bright flashes of rifle fire exited both sides' muzzles. Glass shattered and were made crystalline against the moonlight and whatever street lamps were barely on. The LMB fared no better than the Agents, for the cars they hid behind proved ineffective for cover. A few of their number fell to Division bullets, shot straight through car doors and windows.

Seeing their advantage begin to falter, Corinne ordered the rest, "Retreat! Fall back! All teams, head south over to 56th!"

But Ryan knew better.

"Dumb fuckin' idea, Cori!" he countered while giving Wallace covering fire while he was dragging Bronson. "They're also waiting for us there for sure!"

She did not care, and Liu and Perez were left taking point in the small city park covering everyone's hasty escape.

"Shit, I'm telling you, we are being pushed back for a reason! I know these cunts!"

"Shut! The… fuck! Up!" Sanford shouted back at him in between machinegun bursts. "Just give our guys covering fire!"

"Grr! On it!" he reluctantly complied, firing his suppressed Vector in single shots, taking down two contractors who poked their heads out at the wrong time.

From the park, Patricia shouted out loud while firing, "All of you in the diner; get out here now!"

And there the Agent rifleman saw it on front of her, hiding behind one of the overturned Humvees. One of the Last Man troopers was equipped differently than the rest. Packing a heavier, explosive resistant vest that covered even his shoulders, with a larger helmet that featured a mandible guard that concealed and protected his face. He rose his M32 at her, safety switched off.

She only had seconds to react.

Firing off what little ammo remained in her current magazine, she was able to drop this grenadier, but he fired too in his last moments. A single 40mm grenade shot out of his launcher, aimed in her general direction. Ducking back down behind the waist-high concrete tree planter and covering her head with her arm, she could only hope for the best, which did not occur.

_Ka-Boom-!-!-!_

The high explosive round detonated on impact, destroying the pot, sending her body across the park onto a blanket of unkempt snow. Jerry was the first to respond. Firing off blindly as he ran up to her incapacitated body, the bolt carrier group in his assault rifle locked back, signaling that he was out of ammunition. Slinging the rifle aside as he slid onto the ground to her position, he drew his Glock 19 9mm handgun with one hand, firing off and dragging his friend to safety with the other while the other pair of Agents with him did the same from safety.

"You okay, Patty?!" he struggled to gain her attention. "Pat! Can you hear me?!"

She remained unresponsive even as Jerry pulled her behind a low, granite wall to the far side of the park. But life flickered in her eyes again. Snapping back to reality, she coughed roughly, nodding her head to his concerns, but not before pushing him off her, motioning to him to get back to fighting.

"Okay Pat, just stay down," getting back on his radio again, he whined over, "Man down! Man down! Emerald-Four got hit, but she's stable!"

In her haze, the woman in question lay back against the wall, drawing out her P226, chambering a round, and firing off her pistol blindly around the low wall's corner. Her partner threw over a grenade in the midst of the mercenary force, blowing up another couple more of them in the fury.

Before the Brooklyn Diner was left behind for good this time, Agent Westbrook caught another batch of LMB reinforcements headed towards them. A four-man team this time, mainly additional riflemen, save it be for one. He carried on his back the all-too-familiar sight of a heavy weapon no infantryman wanted to face against. Measuring at over a meter-long olive drab tube with its carrying handle on top, high-power scope, and loaded with a single warhead. It was none other than the M2 Carl Gustav Recoilless Rifle.

"Incoming! RPG!" Wes screamed at last, to every Agent's dismay.

The reinforcement team set up behind their struggling comrades, and the rocket bearer, readied his weapon. Once more with increased intensity, the Strategic Homeland Division's gear, from their radios to their watches frizzled out again here in this Dark Zone. Something or someone was here giving them all these problems, and the lone wolf arrived on scene shrouded in shadow.

"W-W-Warning," ISAC tried to announce to all in their com-links, but no one listened in this blazingly intense gunfight. "Hi-High-Threat hostile… in proximity…"

_T-s-s-s-h-!-!-!_

"This is… bullshi-i-i-i-it!" Corinne screeched as inevitable fate came.

The rocket fired, trailing above his squad's heads, past the park, towards the Diner. Agents whether outside or in ducked down instinctively, covering one another. Ryan took Corrine in his arms down to the floor next to the wounded Agent Bronson. The unguided missile skirted inside the restaurant, hitting Agent Wallace, knocking him down to the ground, forcing a pained scream from him. The warhead still continued in its flight into the kitchen, passing over countertops and sinks, and finally hitting a vital gas pipeline left out in the open.

The fireball explosion blew all away into a daze.

After several long moments, Agent Ryan was the first to get back up, but alas he was in a frenzied mess. His ears were ringing and vision was all a foggy blur. It was hard differentiating from shattered glass from bullet casing on the floor. He weakly tried to stand up and return to the action, but fumbled in his steps worse than that one time he tried whiskey sours in Brooklyn. He was grateful at least that his Vector SMG was still in his hands even after the massive blast. The fires, smoke, and debris made matters even worse to him and he was left coughing for air. He groggily stood up, pointing his weapon at anything and everything.

From what little he could hear, there were more gunshots. This was an indicator at least his men were still on their feet fighting. But then again, voices of panic rose. Both sides of the conflict, LMB and Division alike now were left dealing with a third party that was set on finishing them all off. Looking on out the window, the lone Agent saw Last Man Battalion forces getting picked off before retreating back the way they came, and it was far more than just his fellow Division Agents that was doing the work. This was strange, for these contractors are never known to fall back no matter what. His fellow Agents outside struggled to communicate after the blast. They were formed in a circle pointing outwards in search of an unknown number of foes they saw not, but was there, hunting them all down.

"W-Warning… Warning," Westbrook began to hear ISAC's autonomous voice again.

Checking on his teammates that were with him distressed Ryan further. Corinne, Tyrone, and Jordan weren't getting back up. Were they dead? Were they unconscious? Nonetheless incapacitated and unable to render any assistance whatsoever. The Agent's senses were slowly coming back as clarity replaced haze.

And then, he saw one of them.

Aiming down where his watch station was in what felt like a lifetime ago, his red dot crosshair sighted in through the gray smoke someone coming in through the window that was shot out. Climbing in through the shattered diner window was someone huge, dressed in an all-black uniform, wore heavy-duty, body armor of an unknown make that covered from head to toe every body part and joint. Any shred of identity was thoroughly covered up and concealed. What stood out more than this juggernaut's loadout was what was strewn throughout the straps of its protective suit of layered Kevlar, high-end fabrics, and dense ceramics. Red and orange halos flicked on and off like a macabre Christmas tree from some of the chest straps on the entity's rig as the unknown threat took pride in his watch trophies of other Agents like him.

"Who…" Ryan hoarsely muttered, struggling to stand in place from his daze. "Who the hell… are you?!"

It responded not and it proudly shouldered its military-grade and modified Mk. 46 light machinegun whose long barrel was smoking from excessive use. The hostile's face could not be determined because it wore a Stygian black ballistic mask secured over its features atop a black balaclava. The hulking figure's eyes were all that could be seen and were filled with hate, rage, and a desire for the hunt.

Agent Ryan Westbrook was now left alone to face this new enemy.

"Warning," ISAC's voice intervened in total clarity. "Have detected an unknown, high-threat, heavily armed hostile in danger close proximity…"

…

Author's Notice:

To my followers and readers of my Samurai Jack fanfic, don't worry, I haven't abandoned that story. I just felt like trying my hand at something different as a side project just to keep me writing on something. I hope you guys understand.

Anyways, I wondered for a while what my next project should be when my aforementioned story reaches completion by mid-next year. I've always wanted to do an Elder Scrolls or a Star Wars story for a while, but quite frankly, those fanbases are quite stocked with tens of thousands of stories already. I felt that going into a lesser known fandom would have been more to my liking. And so I settled with my other favorite videogame franchise as of late, Tom Clancy's The Division.

Even though I have a whole story outline planned out, I honestly have no idea where I am going with this story. I just liked that game so much I decided to write about it. What I am willing to share about this particular story is how the events herein shall be a full novelization of the first game's events, with my usual twist on them. I am aware there are already books and comics out which may or may not do the same thing, but I honestly have not purchased nor read any of them. I am seeking to do my own thing, as always.

I know I kinda threw you readers into the thick of it with this introductory chapter, but succeeding chapters from this point shall rewind back to the beginning of the Dollar Flu outbreak all the way to the point my cliffhanger here left off. All this as experienced through the views of the very fireteam of Strategic Homeland Division Agents we were treated to in the first E3 Trailers dating back to this game's first announcement back in 2013. Team Raven, with Agents Ryan, Bronson, and Megan shall be taking front and center in this work. I will be focusing in on them as the main characters, and all others such as Corinne Sanford, Jerry Liu, Elizabeth Chan, etc., as have been mentioned in this chapter are from the game as well (they are the Agents prominently heard from in the audio logs).

As for the references I made in this chapter…

The plot here honestly heavily draws from the official Escape from Tarkov web series, "Raid," Episode 1. The live action show's display of realistic, gritty, and frantic combat with survival overtones set the stage for how I should approach this chapter and future ones. For much of The Division's history, and still with its Washington DC based sequel, I feel like the game's emphasis on its tiered loot system, role-playing game dynamics, and lack of hardcore survival elements have distracted from how tragic and depressing the setting of the open world of post-apocalyptic New York City truly is. Don't get me wrong, I still love the game as much as I love my childhood cartoons, but it still feels like a missed opportunity in the end.

Also, the location and backdrop I made use of for this chapter, 57th Street and the Brooklyn Diner, are real. Dark Zone DZ-06 in-game appears to at least partially cover this area. In fact, I was actually here in the Big Apple for some of my classes, I'll let you guess where, and I love the Diner's cheeseburgers. I got a tad bit creative with where I was with the Tarkov web series and the videogame, which produced the prologue to this work before you.

One more thing…

When I post the next chapter to this is honestly unknown right now, but is surely coming soon. I will need time to both settle on plot details to this and more importantly to me, complete and finish up my other Samurai Jack work by my deadline approximately mid-next year, right on the anniversary air date of the very first episode, August 10th. At the pace I am going, its surely ambitious, but possible. Just like my other story, I am open to plot suggestions for this story. I already have a wide range of topics to cover and plan for, but I appreciate your feedback as always. Feel free to either leave your ideas in a review or Private Message me if you don't want to post potential spoilers.

Have a blessed and great day, my fans and readers! This is d-clarence, signing off!

;)


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